


The Wolf Meets the Sheep

by Antimatics



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Billy is Not Good, Blood, Blood and Torture, Child Abuse, Cocaine, Drug Use, F/M, Gore, Light Masochism, M/M, Murder, Recreational Drug Use, Sadism, Serial Killer Billy Hargrove, Serial Killers, Smoking, Violence, graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antimatics/pseuds/Antimatics
Summary: Billy Hargrove is an angry, violent boy who's done horrible things and has a horrible past. Sometimes Billy kills people, because he just gets so angry. Because he likes too.Everything was working out just fine in sunny California until Billy slipped up. Made a mistake.Now he's being forced by his father to move across the country, but it isn't so easy to get away with murder in a little town like Hawkins.





	The Wolf Meets the Sheep

It was easier in California. There were nobodies everywhere. The type of people that nobody looked for once they went missing, it was so simple. Junkies, in particular, were Billy’s favorite prey.

They were easy to find, and it didn’t matter what they looked like or what gender they were. Billy met most of them when he went and purchased his own shit before parties or when he was just looking to get a little bit high.

You could tell them apart from recreational users pretty easily. Track marks like warning labels to anyone considering shooting up, eyes bloodshot and faces gaunt. They always looked kind of confused, distant. Billy liked that, envied it when he wasn’t high himself. That feeling of distance from the real world was beautiful.

All he had to do was follow them home, or back to whatever hole had replaced a home.

Now, Billy wasn’t the high and mighty type of killer. He wouldn’t tell you that he was doing it for them, to save them from the world or some bullshit. He did it because he wanted to, because he liked it.

Because it was fun.

He’d follow them, grab them, and if they were strong enough to fight back – and Billy hoped they were – he’d kick and punch and embrace the struggle with them until they submitted. Usually it’d be over quickly, as they were never a match for Billy’s strength, but the ones who took longer to go down were his favorite. All the better if he could walk away with a bruise or two of his own.

It’d be messy work. He tried to keep them awake the whole time, but it didn’t always work. Once he had them pinned he’d pull out the switchblade he always kept tucked in the waistband of his pants.

Nothing was sweeter than the fear in their eyes when they saw the way the light caught the wicked blade before he struck.

There was no sense of organization to his kills, he wasn’t one of those freaks who needed things to be perfect or the same every time. All he needed was the blood, the pained gasps around his hand clamped over their mouths and the tears spilling from their eyes. Those were always constant, and that was all he needed.

The knife would find all of their soft spots, though he mostly kept it to the stomach, as he’d found it the most rewarding area. Not too quick to bleed out like the throat, and the maximum amount of pain inflicted on his prey.

He wore their sticky, hot blood like a glove up to his elbows. Like an artist he’d find himself painted in arterial sprays and splatters. Most would find it disgusting, but Billy loved being soaked in blood like that. Like a physical manifestation of the anger that burned a constant flame inside of him.

After his little bout of fun it was easy work to get rid of the body, tuck it away somewhere no one would find it for ages. He’d wipe his face off enough to leave whatever crack den or condemned apartment complex he’d found himself in and make his way to the beach. It was always late into the night, with a hood pulled up to hide his face and hands shoved in his pockets nobody paid him a second glance.

This was part of his ‘ritual’ if you’d call it that. Billy would walk down the empty beach and walk into the sea, bloodied clothes and all.

If he was the type for cheesy symbolic meanings to everything he did, or some over-inflated sense of self-importance, he might say the ocean was cleansing him of his sins or some pansy-ass shit like that.

Billy just liked to go for a midnight swim. That was all.

For days after a kill Billy would be deadly calm, all of his usual anger expended, leaving behind a sort of empty shell. A different Billy that stayed eerily quiet and calm and did what was asked of him. It was better than any chemical high he’d ever experienced.

Max avoided Billy like the plague when he was like that. She was the only one who really seemed to feel something off about Billy, he respected that about her. But if she ever tried to tell anyone anything she would meet a swift and terrifying end. Billy liked to think there was an unspoken understanding of that between them.

Billy’s dad was a complete asshole. To Billy, and Billy alone. Just like junkies were Billy’s outlet for his anger, Billy was his father’s outlet for his. Must be a Hargrove family trait. At least Billy wasn’t so much of a coward to beat on his own kid. Then again, he didn’t have his own disgusting little spawn just yet, if he ended up anything like Billy, he’d probably beat on him too.

Billy’s dad was just as cruel and nasty as Billy was. Well, that was what Billy liked to think. Maybe it was just easier to blame your parents for the ways you were fucked up.

His dad didn’t let that side of himself show in front of Maxine and her weak cunt of a mother, _Susan_. To them he was an easy-going addition to the family that was just unfortunately burdened with his fuckup of a son.

It was probably easy to lie to them, they just accepted everything at face value. Even when Neil told them they’d be moving to fucking Hawkins, Indiana they accepted his lame excuse about having a ‘work opportunity’. Sure, Max was upset about the move, but she didn’t even question why Neil would uproot them and move them to out to assfuck nowhere without any warning. It pissed Billy off, even Max, who had seemed just rebellious enough for Billy to get along with alright when they’d first met, was just another sheep in his father’s herd.

Of course, it was for the best that they didn’t know and didn’t care enough to ask about the real reason they had to leave.

It was because of Billy. Billy and his fucking mistakes, getting sloppy and slipping up.

Neil knew what Billy had almost done, and the terrifying thing was how unsurprised he’d been by it.

Billy had taken a girl out. She was nice, so nice that Billy wanted to blow his brains out after spending more than an hour with her. A real straight-edge, work-in-the-soup-kitchen-during-the-weekend type of girl. She’d had a crush on Billy for a while, and he’d known the entire time. Not only because one of her friends told him a few weeks ago, but because of the heart-eyes she made at him every time he’d pass her in the hall and the way she’d blush and stutter when he spoke to her.

Every good little daddy’s girl craves a bad boy to add some excitement to her life. Little did she know, Billy was about as bad as they come.

He had considered taking her out to the pier, winning her a teddy bear, sharing some cotton candy, that sort of thing. Played with the idea of giving her a good time, and maybe down the line – or that same night – she’d show him a good time. The good girls always ended up being the most wild little sluts.

That plan had been derailed by his dad.

Billy had been getting ready to leave and pick her up when his dad had stalked into his room, the sour stench of beer hot on his breath, a bottle dangling loosely from one hand.

He’d knocked the bottles of hairspray and cologne off his vanity (A piece of furniture that’s very existence infuriated Neil to no end) and grabbed Billy by the front of his shirt, used the leverage to shove him up against the wall.

Billy had flinched away from his father, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes. _Like a weak little pussy._

“Where do you think you’re going? You better not be hanging around with those disgusting little faggot friends of yours. I told you what I’d do to you if I ever saw you hanging around them again.” Neil’s face burned an angry cherry red and little bits of saliva sprayed across Billy’s face.

Neil didn’t like the people Billy hung around. Mostly druggies and partiers. And he wasn’t all that wrong about the fag part, either. Billy shuddered to think about what would happen to him if his dad learned what Billy had done with some of those boys. Doing his hair and listening to rock was already toeing the line.

Billy kept his eyes downcast, “I’m not. I’m not seeing them, dad. I’m taking a girl out. She’s real nice, you and Susan would – you’d like her, I think.”

The bottle shattered against the wall to Billy’s left. “Bullshit. The only girls you ever seem to take out are addicts and whores.”

Distantly, the pair could hear the front door slamming shut. Maxine, back from a friend’s house. Neil wouldn’t dare to do shit to him, now.

Reluctantly, Neil let go of Billy and stalked out of his room, pausing in the doorway to pin Billy with one last hate-filled glare, “You better be home before ten. Don’t test me, boy.”

“Yes, sir.” Billy hissed, imagining all the ways he’d enjoy cutting into Neil as he watched his father’s retreating form.

Billy had finished off getting ready with a few lines and a handful of pills. Another good thing about preying on addicts just leaving their hookups, plenty of drugs to lift off their corpses. Cash too.

Any hopes of a sweet little trip to the fair were thoroughly killed by then. Billy had come roaring into her parent’s driveway, music blaring at levels even he couldn’t enjoy. Their house was ridiculously nice, in that part of the city you’d expect to see A-list celebrities taking up in.

Billy walked up the steps to her front porch in a drug-fueled haze of anger and apathy. He pounded on the front door, rings leaving scratches in the paint.

“Heather! Let’s go!” He called, slumping against the doorframe, never ceasing in his knocking.

She pulled open the door and greeted Billy with a sweet smile and a blush. “Billy!” The edges of her smile faded slightly at the sight of him. Good. He couldn’t stand this cheerful bitch right now.

He collected himself enough to offer her a cocky smile, “Hey, Heather. You look good.” If the smile didn’t reach his cold, emptied eyes, well, she didn’t notice just then.

“Thanks!” She blushed even harder and looked up at him through her eyelashes shyly, “Y-you do too, Billy.”

He guided her down the steps with a hand at the small of her back, “Had to make sure I looked good enough to be hangin’ around you, darling.”

It was so easy to earn her trust, so easy to get her to smile at him like he’d hung the moon. He wondered if this was the first time a guy had taken her out.

She looked pretty, all frail and delicate perched in the passenger seat of his car. He could tell she wasn’t a huge fan of his music, and enjoyed the way she flinched at the louder notes in each song but didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t dare say something that might ruin her chances of Billy Hargrove liking her back.

Billy drove too fast. Swerved into the wrong lane almost as often as he stayed in the right one. The drugs made him even more reckless than usual. He didn’t know where he was taking them until they got there. The movie theater. A rundown one in a bad part of town. He was half certain he’d bought coke off a guy behind this place a few months ago. The only thing showing was some B-rated horror movie that should’ve been out of theaters weeks, if not months ago. It had already started but Billy convinced his poor date to go in.

“I-I don’t know, Billy. This place looks a little shady.” She protested weakly, already following Billy towards the front entrance.

Billy fixed her with an empty stare that it was just dark enough outside for her not to see, “It is a shady place. The world isn’t all five-star restaurants and resorts, darling. Welcome to the real world. It’s all just as shitty as this place.”

Heather was at a loss for words, she just laughed uncomfortably and crossed her arms over her chest, hunching protectively in on herself.

But still, she followed Billy inside.

The movie was halfway over and downright awful. But maybe you just had to have seen the beginning to get it. They were the only people sat in the dark, musty room and Billy kept a possessive arm slung tight around her shoulders through the entire film. He held her in too tight of a hold, and when she tried to move or shift away from him he could feel the joint of her shoulder move under her skin from the pressure.

The movie was awful, but gory, something that Heather obviously found disgusting and hard to watch. She kept her eyes squeezed shut most of the film, and tried to pretend she couldn’t hear the way Billy laughed low in his chest every time the camera showed someone being stabbed or killed. Or the way his too-bright eyes had shone and his tongue had darted out to wet his lips when one of the teenagers had had their still-beating heart ripped out.

Even the stereotypical final girl at the end of the film met a brutal end, disemboweled in the parking lot outside of her high school. As the credits rolled and the lights flickered back on, Billy had leaned over and whispered in her ear, breath warm against her pale throat.

“The ending was so realistic. As if a stupid little girl like that could get away from such a strong, powerful man.” His laugh chilled her to her very core. “They never get away. No matter how much they fight.”

She pushed away from Billy then, clutching her coat tightly to her body, “I think I’m ready to go home.” She whispered, afraid to speak any louder.

Billy lounged back against the fraying, stained theater seats, “Oh, you are?” He said in a mocking voice, “Well, better do what the princess asks me to.”

            “C’mon, Billy, let’s just go.” She tried for a smile to break the tension and tried to edge past him to leave the theater.

            Billy caught her wrist in a crushing grip and yanked her back towards him. “Think I’m just gonna let a stupid little bitch like you tell me what to do?”

            For the first time that night she realized how truly cold and empty Billy’s eyes were and noticed the hardened edge to his voice, she tried in vain to free her arm, “You’re hurting me.” She whispered.

            Billy tightened his hold on her and stood up, “You’re right. It’s time to go.” His voice held a strange, cold tone. He started towards the exit and dragged her along with him by her wrist.

            She could feel the bones of her wrist grating together. Heather struggled against his hold, trying to pull herself in the opposite direction and escape. She didn’t know why he was acting so strange, or what he planned to do once he had her wherever he was planning on taking her. “Let go of me!” She cried, tears beginning to well at the corners of her eyes.

            They made it to the theater lobby before she ended up stumbling and falling. The fall combined with Billy’s vice-like hold was too much for her wrist to take and both of them froze momentarily at the sickening crack that resonated throughout the room.

            Billy released her arm like it had burned him, watching as she clutched it to her chest and sobbed lowly. The sound was almost animal in nature, a wounded and vulnerable thing. She was still sat where she’d fallen on the ground, cradling her broken arm and trying not to look at him.

            The lobby was, blessedly, empty. The pimple-faced kid that was supposed to be behind the counter at the front had skipped out a while ago, probably to smoke something or maybe even shoot up. Billy’d seen far more surprising things in this part of the city.

            Tears and snot were streaked across Heather’s blotchy face when she finally looked up at him again, “Please, just take me home, or – or to the hospital. Please. I-I won’t tell anyone, I promise! I just wanna go home.” Heather’s voice cracked towards the end of her pleading and she looked back down at the floor.

            Billy rolled his eyes and prodded at her with his boot. Well, maybe a little harder than prodding. “Fine, whatever. Get up off your ass and we’ll go.”

            She whimpered at the kick, Billy’s boots none too gentle against her ribs, and scrambled to make herself stand, “Y-yeah, great! Let’s go.” She staggered towards the main exit, Billy’s Camaro in her line of sight.

            Billy grabbed her by the shoulders and stopped her, shoving her against the wall and jarring her arm. She thought she saw a smile flicker across his lips when she cried out.

            He leaned in until their noses were nearly touching, “You aren’t gonna say shit to anyone, got it?” He ignored the fleeting thought that she was in the same position he’d been in with his dad only hours before.

            She nodded frantically, leaning away from him as much as she could.

            A sick grin twisted Billy’s lips and he jabbed a finger in her face, “One word, to anyone, and I’ll climb through your bedroom window while you’re sleeping and break your fucking neck. Then I’ll pay a visit to that little sister of yours.” Heather had a younger sister just a grade or two below their year, Billy wouldn’t mind hearing her scream under his knife.

            Heather paled rapidly and looked sick to her stomach, “I won’t tell anyone.” She whispered.

            Billy pulled away and let go of her, the easy-going and charming smile she could remember seeing in the halls at school sliding onto his face like a fucking mask, “Great. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

            They made it to the hospital nearest her house without incident. If she had been accompanied by the same Billy she’d thought she’d known before tonight she would’ve thought he’d taken her to this hospital so she’d be closer to home. Now, she thought he’d gone out of her way to take her to this hospital in particular so that she’d have to sit in pain and sit in the car with him for longer.

            The doctor who had taken a look at her arm had seen the handprint-shaped bruises blooming on her skin and had given Billy a pointed look when he’d asked Heather what had happened.

            She kept her gaze on the floor as she’d responded, “I tripped and fell while we were leaving the movie theater.”

            The doctor was obviously unsatisfied with that answer but didn’t press her. The poor girl was under too much stress and he’d wait until she was in a cast and the pain killers had kicked in.

            Billy stared back at the doctor with a blank expression. He turned to Heather and patted her on the back, purposely jostling her arm the slightest bit, “I’ll go call your parents and tell them you’re here.” He wanted to be around when she told them what happened.

            Her eyes grew big and she shook her head rapidly, “You can’t! They… they don’t know that I went out on a date tonight. I’m not allowed to date.” She mumbled. And what a first date it had been.

            Ultimately, the doctor had been the one to have a nurse call her parents. By the time they arrived she’d gotten her cast and Billy had watched from the corner of the hospital room as her mother fussed over her and her dad berated her for lying about where she was going. Her father had obviously figured out that his daughter hadn’t just ‘fallen’ and had confronted Billy in the hallway outside of the hospital room.

            The clock in the hallway had made Billy realize the time. It was past ten and his father was going to be pissed when he got home.

            Turns out, Billy hadn’t had to wait until he got home.

            When the hospital had called Heather’s parents, they’d called Billy’s as well.

            Neal was waiting in the hall when Heather’s dad had pulled Billy aside. In some innate sense for Billy being a fuckup, Neal had already seemed to get the situation and he and Heather’s father had quickly worked out a solution to their mutual problem. Neal didn’t say a word to Billy the entire time, but he knew the shitstorm brewing under his dad’s calm exterior.

            Turns out Heather’s dad was some bigshot Hollywood manager of the stars or something and he didn’t want word of his daughter sneaking out with trash like Billy to reach the public eye, let alone the fact that he’d let his daughter get beat on by said trash.

            He’d told Neal that if they left California and fucked off to somewhere nobody’d ever hear from them again, he or his daughter wouldn’t press charges against Billy.

            And so they’d fucked off to a place nobody had ever heard of and wouldn’t hear from them for a very long time: Hawkins, Indiana.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed my story so far and if you have anything you'd like to say (questions, concerns, blatant praise) please leave me a comment letting me know what you think! Comments are the bread and butter fic authors survive on, so please feel free to spoil me with some words from your brain. Thanks babes!


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